


A Phone Call

by victina



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Destiel - Freeform, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-16
Updated: 2017-03-16
Packaged: 2018-10-05 23:56:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10320491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/victina/pseuds/victina
Summary: Castiel makes a drunken, miserable phone call to an unsuspecting Dean. Most likely, an unwelcome one.





	

_ Dialing. _

 

It was two in the morning. Two in the morning and Cas couldn't sleep, couldn't think about Dean any less than the daytime when he was supposed to be fully functional.

 

If anything, the time made it worse.

 

Not to mention, Cas was a lightweight; an emotional drunk that only happened if he was miserable.

 

Castiel was fucking  _ miserable _ without Dean.

 

So, he broke Dean-less sobriety in his drunken stupor. He still had the green-eyed boy on speed dial, as if he’d ever expected to use it again, as the numbers weren't seared into his brain and worn from use. Castiel sat on his bathroom floor and listened to the dial tone, hoping, praying that Dean Winchester did not pick up his phone. Wishing from the bottom of his soul that he did pick up.

 

Either outcome would break his heart.

 

He didn't realize that the dial tone had ceased.

 

“...Cas?”

Hang up _ ,  _ hang _ up,  _ you  _ idiot- _

 

Hearing Dean’s voice again, groggy and surprised, made Castiel’s heart shatter and fly in a million different directions. His voice caught, his heart drummed violently in his chest and he couldn't breathe, he couldn't think, he couldn't  _ breathe _ -

 

“Aren't you going to say something?”

 

_ God, _ he had missed that voice so much. Cas sat on the floor, and hot tears began to spill down his face and he didn't dare move, or breathe, he didn't want to shatter this good illusion before Dean had the chance to speak again.

 

“Um,” Dean sounded confused, “I’m just going to hang up, obviously you didn't mean to…”

 

No,  _ no,  _ Castiel panicked. Don't hang up. He breathed in, attempting to push a sound, any sound from his throat.

 

“D-Dean.”

 

The name sounded foreign and unwelcome on his tongue. He heard Dean’s breath hitch over the line and still, Castiel was glad he’d picked up.

 

“Dean,” the word vomit commenced, not an unusual thing for Cas, “oh my God, Dean, I  _ miss _ you.”

 

A long pause, like the other boy was thinking. Finally, he spoke, sounding exasperated and tired. “Castiel, are you drunk?”

 

Cas looked down at the wine soaked bathroom tile and the clear, toppled glass in shards across the bathroom. “I’m fine.” he evaded, voice wet and hoarse from crying. A noise from the other end of the line, a soft grunt that let Cas know that Dean did not approve.

 

“Why are you calling me?” The question the drunk boy had been expecting, yet it still felt like rejection. Castiel stayed silent. He didn't know  _ why  _ he had called, he didn't remember even picking up the phone, so he didn't know what to respond with. “I…”

 

“I miss you.”

 

Dean sighed at the other end of the line. “I'm going to go. Get some sleep.”

 

“No,  _ wait,”  _ Cas panicked, “please don't go.” Loneliness seized in his throat and he hiccuped, grasping the phone tighter. He started bumbling, willing to say anything just to keep his lover-  _ former  _ lover- on the line. “Please, I need you.”

 

Dean didn't say anything, so Cas went on. “I-I know you don't want to talk to me, and I'm sorry I called, it's just-

 

I don't know what to do without you, Dean.”

Dean had gone completely silent at this point, and Cas would have noticed if he wasn't heaving in air, gasping through tears and shaking so much he wasn't sure if his voice was even audible. “Some-sometimes I still have dreams that you're still here, and they feel like nightmares because I'll wake up and you're  _ gone  _ but I don't realise it, so I'll get up and make us both coffee, yours black and mine sweet, and I'll finish mine and take a shower. A-and I'll come out, and your coffee will be cold on the table and it  _ sucks _ , Dean, because you always used to finish your coffee, even when I accidentally put sugar in it.

 

“So I have to dump it out because I don't like black coffee, and Dean,  _ why  _ did you leave your mug here? It  _ hurts _ .”

 

“D-Dean,” Cas sobbed, stopping for a moment to catch his breath, “I always wondered why you stayed with me, because I was  _ always  _ screwing up, I was never good enough for you and I knew it, but still, there you were every morning, holding me like it was the end of the world and I was the center of it.

 

“I wondered every night if you would find some girl that you found you liked better, someone prettier because you are  _ far  _ too pretty to be settled with me, but I  _ still fucked everything up  _ because I didn't think I could ever keep you.

 

“And I was right.

 

“I don't blame you, Dean, I understand.” Cas squeezed his eyes shut and he sobbed, his face hot and flushed with tears. He couldn't breathe, his heart felt like it would burst out of his chest because he’d been wanting to say this for  _ so long.  _ “I wouldn't reveal you to your family like that, Dean, it’s okay that you were ashamed of me because  _ I was ashamed of me too,  _ it’s just…”

  
Castiel frowned, suddenly angry. “It’s just, Dean, I lost fucking  _ everything  _ for you. My family, my brothers, cast me out because I wasn't ashamed of  _ you _ , and I thought you would ride that out with me if I told them because,  _ damn it,  _ I wanted to share you with the world. I finally had you for myself.” He sobbed. “And you  _ left  _ when I needed you the most, Dean.”

Castiel closed his eyes, trying to numb the pain in his heart, he didn't care at this point that his words were slurring together. “And now, sometimes I see you at places we used to go, and I have to pretend like I'm fine, like I don't still  _ love  _ you more than the girl you'll have in your arm, and I have to pretend like I'm not feeling like some gigantic  _ experiment  _ you had fun with like some  _ rebound.  _ I have to pretend like it doesn't hurt that you're blocking everything we ever had out, trying to convince everyone of your heterosexuality.

 

“But I've never been good at pretending, Dean.

 

“I  _ still  _ fucking love you, and those eyes and those pluckish, occasional hugs you give. I'm still in love with you Dean, and it somehow hurts more knowing that you moved on so fast, that you're so determined to block every memory of us out. I don't want to love you anymore, Dean, because loving you hurts more than it should, and it feels like my heart is breaking every day when I see you with her.”

 

Cas leaned back, and his head thudded against the wall. His sobs had somewhat subsided, but his breathing was heavy, his throat convulsing like he was on the very, very edge of breaking down again, air short and shallow and rocking his chest.

 

“I would give anything to go back to when you loved me, Dean. Anything.”

 

All Castiel heard when he finished his speech was the long, steady sound of the dial tone that showed Dean had hung up;

  
And it sounded strangely like the flatlining of his own heart as a sob ripped through his throat in a cry of defeat.

**Author's Note:**

> This was the result of too much alcohol, overthinking, and some angst prompts. Yikes.


End file.
